“I don’t want to die, Kara,” he hissed. “So if it’s you or me–”
“No.”
Silence followed. A long, uncomfortable silence. But his arms had stopped pressing so hard, and the nightshade ropes on his wrists trembled against her neck. Then, finally he said shakily, “No? You’d rather see me burn, is that it?”
Her insides turned to ice. The way he said it, like he believed that was what she actuallywanted. Like he couldn’t imagine anything else. More images burst into her mind: Sebastian bound to the stake, the flames catching, his eyes finding hers in the crowd–
I could never want that.
But she forced her voice to be level, firm.
“No, Sebastian, I wouldn’t. But I won’t be threatened into it. Let me go.”
His breathing came fast on her neck. But he didn’t move. Didn’t release her.
“You think I won’t do it?”
“I think you don’t want to,” she murmured.
“I should,” he said unevenly.
“I know.”
She had done this. He had every right to hate her, every reason to hurt her. But she didn’t plead. Didn’t flinch. She just waited.
“Damn you, Kara,” he muttered, and with a low curse he wrenched his bound arms back over her head, freeing her. She turned immediately and took his hands in hers, tugging the first knot loose.
Sebastian stared down at her, incredulous. “What are you doing?”
She met his gaze. His blue eyes, so piercing and confused, held hers with a quiet intensity that she got lost in. It would be so easy to forget everything – the orders, the Shards, the consequences.
“I was going to let you go anyway,” she said lightly. “Before you got all dramatic.”
His expression turned to one of disbelief. “Dramatic?”
“Yes, threatening to kill me? I’d call that dramatic.”
His eyes bore into her as she worked and it made her neck prickle uncomfortably. She forced her gaze to remain on his wrists.
“You’d untie me. Just like that? Even after–”
“Yes.” She risked a glance up at him. “I made a mistake.”
“Aren’t you worried I might hurt–”
“No,” she said, calm and certain.
He fell quiet then, looking thoroughly confused and a little indignant. And beneath it all, she was sure, he was shaken. Because he’d expected her to be afraid. And she hadn’t been. Not even a little. The longer she touched the nightshade, the more deeply the deadening chill seeped into her, and her magic started to dull. She hated the feeling. Hated it even more that they’d used it on him. It took longer than she’d expected, Henry had tied them well, each loop pulled tight and stubborn. The silence between them made every second feel longer, the awkward closeness pressing on her.
Finally, she pulled him free.
She threw the nightshade wraps to the ground, not hiding her disgust. For a heartbeat, he knelt there perfectly still, staring at his unbound hands. Like he couldn’t believe they were actually his again. Then his gaze locked on hers. Neither of them even breathed. She thought he was going to say something but then–
His magic erupted.
Crimson light flared wild and frenzied, twisting like uncontrolled flames around his hands. Before she could step back, or even think, he was on his feet, moving faster than she’d thought possible. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her upwards in one fluid motion. She gasped, stumbling into him. Not from pain – his grip was firm but not cruel – but from the suddenness. The sheerstrengthof him when he was no longer bound.
“Why would you do that? I’m a traitor,” he hissed.
